


all your money is just black and white

by americananirvana



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tysh, josh dun x tyler joseph, joshler - Freeform, twenty one pilots - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 22:59:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10174337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americananirvana/pseuds/americananirvana
Summary: everything around tyler is fake.the money in his wallet, the smile the cashier gives him as she hands him his bag, the laughter of his family is fake.josh is fake.until one day tyler comes home to josh cradling his head in his hands with multicoloured tears staining his eyelashes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i might delete this later it's short and it's absolute fucking shit and i can't seem to cry so heres the compensation

tyler's reflection stares back at him.

he stands in front of the mirror, long fingers twisting and pulling at cloth and adjusting necklines until he stretches and folds himself into a mask.

he smiles.

the curtains are drawn closed and nonetheless no light shines through.

he knows josh is still asleep, the shock of yellow hair framing his face and mocking his attempt at nonconformity.

tyler tugs at his shirt again, and gets in his black car and drives slowly, the radio muted as the sun begins to creep in and tap at the windows.

he parks in the cracking parking lot and walks into the hospital, and it smells  _fake._

it fills the air and it's stifling. it's all fake, the fading red carpet scratching under his shoes and the hand sanitizer seeping into hands and the smile that a middle aged woman gives him as he passes her by.

it's fake, the small talk his coworkers make with him as he sits down and logs into the computer at the front desk.

it's fake, the plastic smiles he gives as a variety of people enter the hospital and ask about appointments and waiting times and which floor has what.

he cheerfully waves goodbye to the people he knows and laughs and smiles as he gets in the car and tries not to rip apart their plastic faces and crack the pavement and break apart the shaky world he's built.

he turns the radio on now, and listens to different voices proclaim the same message in different words. 

he wants to drive forever.

he doesn't want to go home to josh, who will smile at him with crinkled eyes and ask him how his day was while tyler says  _it was great_ while he tries not to throw up because josh is pretending.

but tyler goes home, and unlocks his door with a jingle of the mostly empty key chain and drops his bag near the floor.

it's deadly silent and tyler thinks that maybe he can let himself unravel and he can take off this cracking mask that's suffocating him.

but then there's a thump from josh's room and tyler's head is tying itself up tightly again with red ribbon as he moves further into the house.

he wants to go in his room and lock the door, and let feathers float from his lips and spread across paper in the form of ink. 

but there's something like sobbing coming from the door across from his own and tyler opens the door that is not his own.

josh is curled up on the floor, his head cradled in his hands and tears are staining his eyelashes and streaking down his cheeks and dripping off his chin.

and suddenly tyler feels like he's been washed, and josh is cracking his head open and letting it pour down and showering tyler with reality, like cold water.

a  _help me_ is spilling from josh's mouth and cutting his lips and he's pulling at his hair, gasping for breath and he can't find it.

"it's all so  _wrong_."

the words must scratch his throat on the way up.

"i shouldn't be here, you shouldn't be here, and they're pretending and you're pretending and-and it's  _fake_."

tyler nods and sits on the rough carpet.

"you're real, though. aren't you?"

"i don't know."

 

tyler takes 3 dollar bills out of his back pocket.

he holds them by the tips of his fingers and holds his arm out, and josh turns on the lighter with a click and watches the flames crumple and blacken the paper it creeps up.

and it's like they've finally given it some color.

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry if you read this i know it wasn't anything you could've expected to be


End file.
